


Almost

by ReasonablyUnreasonable



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, M/M, a hell lot of it too, be the fluff, drown in the fluff, embrace the fluff, pointlesss fluff, tentative attempts at humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3399452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReasonablyUnreasonable/pseuds/ReasonablyUnreasonable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean almost catches his train. Castiel almost agrees to let Balthazar drive him home. They almost don't meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost

**Author's Note:**

> So howdy. Here's the thing; I just finished season 6, and well, I was in desperate need of some fluff. So I wrote myself some. By all means, enjoy.

Dean knows he's going to be  _very_ fucking late for work.

He knew the moment he left to visit Sammy for the weekend that there was no way to be back Monday morning without pulling an all nighter in the train, and he was bloody well fine with that; what he didn't anticipate was getting locked in a coffee shop's bathroom stall for an hour, and once he gets out,  _finally,_ he ends up racing desperately to the station, because the last train for the night is leaving  _now._

Dean  _almost_ catches his train. The doors slam shut seconds before he reaches them- he would have managed to slip through them if he was a moment earlier.

"Goddamnit," he growls, and it goes unheard. The station is empty.

He slumps against a wall, still cursing bad luck and train schedules under his breath, and he figures he'll go to the reception and book a ticket for the morning train instead. And suck up to his boss once he's back. Hopefully avoid getting fired.

Sam comes to his find- he could probably call Sam, explain his misfortune and that he needs to stay another night. But his brother is probably sleeping already, and Dean doesn't want to trouble him pointlessly. It's just a few hours' wait.

* * *

Castiel  _almost_ agrees to let Balthazar drive him home.

It's the least he can do to make up for years of radio silence, years of letting him think he was dead- and then being such an absolute prat when they saw each other again. Although, he's always been a prat. Now it's just easier for Castiel to be mad about it.

The drive is long even for Balthazar's fancy car, though, and unlike his friend, Castiel is not a douche if he can avoid it. So he says it's okay, and opts to take the train.

He arrives at the train station ten minutes after Dean- of course, he doesn't know it's Dean at the time, just a handsome stranger in a glaringly obvious bad mood.

The man glances up at him and raises an eyebrow. "Next train's at seven AM."

Castiel blinks, and can't believe he's apparently read the timetables wrong. He though he was at least half an hour early. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

He shakes his head and goes to phone Balthazar- because change of plan, he really does need a ride home- but his eyes fall on the man again, and he hesitates.

"Why are you here then?" he asks.

"Missed the last train for a second," the stranger grunts. "No point going to a motel just for a few hours."

Castiel sees the logic in that, sort of, but it seems absurd and a little sad for someone to spend the night in an empty, dark train station. On an impulse, he shoves the phone back in his pocket, and sits down next to the man.

"I'm Castiel," he says.

The other girns and holds out his hand. "Dean. Nice to meet you."

They shake. He gives a tight smile, in lack of anything else to say. The silence that follows is not as uncomfortable as he would have expected.

"So Castiel- not a name you hear every day," Dean observes a while later.

"I suppose it's not," he agrees. "Castiel is said to be the name of an angel, though not one of the three mentioned in the Bible. My family is very religious. My older brother is named after Gabriel, the archangel."

"Still a pretty cool name to have. Me, I got my name from my grandma." Dean wrinkes his nose. "Deanna. It's just embarrasing."

That startles a laugh out of Castiel. "Dean is a very nice name," he argues.

"Yours too, man. Has a certain ring to it," the other returns, nodding in acknowledgment.

And it's funny, because Castiel doesn't recall being fond of compliments, but he's pleased to hear that Dean likes his name.

* * *

It's well past midnight, and they're both starting to get a little bit chilly.

Castiel thinks this is the single most idiotic thing he's done so far, not that it's doing any harm, if one ignores his freezing fingers, but because he can't find  _one_ semi-logical reason why he should be there.

Still, he doesn't consider calling Balthazar and waking him up once, and it's only partially due to sympathy for his sleeping friend.

The other part is currently eyeing his attire critically. "You okay there, Cas? A trenchcoat seems a bit too thin for this weather."

"I'm fine," he's quick to reply, and shivers from the cold right after, effectively managing to prove his own statement wrong.

"Yeah, you seem fine," Dean drawls, snorting. He stands up and motions for Castiel to do the same. "C'mon. Off we go."

Castiel gives him a puzzled look. "What? Where?"

"Twenty four hour breakfast, I saw one not too far. It's warm and it's got food- you coming?"

Food and warmth both sound very appealing at the moment, so he nods. "Yeah."

He follows Dean to the shop, which is a good ten minutes walkd from the station, and since out of the station it's even colder, they both take a moment to appreciate the feeling of their icy limbs coming back to life once they enter, then head to a table.

Dean's nose is as red as Rudolph's, Castiel notes, and his hair is tousled by the wind. It's alarmingly endearing.

The other clears his throat, and Castiel averts his gaze, realizing he has been staring (tactlessly, most people would characterize it, and it is apparently not okay with them).

He winces uncomfortably, drumming his fingers on the table. "What are you getting, then?"

"Apple pie. It's the absolute best," Dean declares. Castiel can practically hear the grin in the man's voice, though he is extra careful to make sure his eyes remain fixed on the table. "You? You strike me as a vegan sort of guy."

"Cheeseburger," he deadpands. "But that's not to say I didn't eat my vegetables as a child."

Dean laughs. "Well, I congratulate you- personally I find that an impossible task. If it wasn't for my brother consuming them like they're freaking candy, I'd think people eating all that green stuff was an urban legend."

"The 'green stuff' are very benefitical to your health, Dean," Castiel can't help but point out. He doesn't mean to sound so chastising, except, well, he kind of does.

"Feel free to order a salad, then," the man suggests dryly. "Treat yourself."

"...Cheeeseburgers and apple pies are also benefitical in their own way," Castiel decides after a moment's thought.

* * *

Conversation comes easily, so easily that Dean should probably be a little bit worried. It's nearing two AM, and considering his day was anything but relaxing, he should be giving a fight to keep his eyes open by now. But he finds himself far too entranced by Castiel for sleep to even cross his mind.

He tells Cas about Sammy, how he's always made damn sure to look after the kid, especially after their mother died and their father went a bit...off. How since Jess' death, about six months ago, he's been visiting his baby brother every other weekend. Not to chek if Sam's okay- he knows bloody well that's not the case, but...

"Death's not really news to our family," he explains, smiling wryly. "I know what it feels like. So I don't have unrealistic expectations- I just wanna make sure he's not giving up, you know? That he's moving forward. Crawling even, if he can't get back on his feet yet."

Castiel nods his understanding, and though he never mentions anything like that, Dean has a feeling the other is also fairly acquaintanced with loss.

He never knew Jess that well, but she obviously meant a lot to Sam, and the topic's uncomfortable. He's quick to change it by asking why Cas is travelling instead.

"My friend Balthazar, he...deemed it wise to disappear from the face of earth for a couple years. And when I say disappear, I mean it. He could have been lying dead in an abandonded warehouse or partying in Vegas, for all I knew," Cas says, slowly, and he's obviously not pleased with the fact. The way his eyes narrow makes Dean think he wouldn't want to be this Balthazar guy. "Apparently, he decided he was done deceiving me for now, and I got invited to stay with him this weekend."

Dean frowns. "So, why didn't you stay with him tonight, or have him drive you back? Seems like a good way to make up for being a lying dick."

"Well-" Castiel doesn't seem to know what to say, and shrugs. "Why didn't you stay with Sam?"

"We're both idiots, that's why," Dean concludes, grimacing.

* * *

They bicker about who gets to pay, and Dean wins with the argument that he's the one who suggested going there in the first place.

"It's on me next time, though," Castiel murmurs, and immediately wants to kick himself.

Strangers who coincidentally have to wait for the same train at night don't have 'next times'. He has absolutely no reason to assume Dean would want to keep in contact-

And Dean smiles widely in return. "Okay, Cas. That can be arranged."

* * *

"Goddamnit, I miss my Baby," Dean bites out. "My car," he clarifies, a little too hastily. "She's being repaired, at my uncle Bobby's. Never really got how much slower public transportation is."

They're back at the station now, and have maybe silently agreed to sit a bit closer than before. For warmth. Obviously. Nothing else.

It's not like Dean finds Cas ridiculously attractive, with the most stunning eyes he's ever seen, and that goddamn voice, and the fact that he continually manages to make him smile in the middle of the bloody night. Not at all.

"Your uncle's a mechanic, then?"

"Yep. Well, he's not my uncle biologically, but closest damn thing to family other than Sam. Also the only one I'd trust with Baby."

"And what do  _you_ do?"

"Employee at a piss-poor company at the moment," he admits. "I'm going to go work with Bobby in a couple months, though. You?"

"I own a bookstore. Gabriel helps me occasionally. When he's in a particularly good mood. Or wants something. Or both."

Considering that Cas seems to know everything about, well,  _everything,_ Dean isn't really surprised his job is centered around books. He thinks maybe he should introduce the guy to Sam; no doubt the two nerds would get along brilliantly.

It's not like Dean hates books. He just doesn't like them in the extreme amounts Sam seems to do. And Cas, apparently.

"I'm surrounded by bookworms. Everywhere I go," he wails.

"Perhaps it's your cue to start reading?" the other suggests.

Dean raises an eyebrow. "I think this is just an elaborate ploy to get me to visit your bookstore," he accuses.

"Of course it is."

"Well, bravo, Cas. Your evil masterplan is working."

* * *

It's nearing morning, and it's becoming harder by the second to remember than Dean is, essentially, a stranger.

It's nearing morning, and Castiel is exhausted, dangerously close to nodding off despite his best attempts to stay awake (he's barely gotten a wink of sleep the last two days; Balthazar's brilliant idea of a reunion included flashy clubs and pounding music). And it's a bit ridiculous, because all he's doing is bickering and joking with a stranger, but it feels far too significant for him to fall asleep.

"Cas, buddy," Dean murmurs, and Castiel jolts up from a semi-conscious trance. He sounds just as tired, but slightly more awake. "Take a nap. I'll wake you when the train comes."

"'M okay."

"No, man, you're not. You look like you're in The Walking Dead."

"Thank you, Dean. That's charming."

* * *

At half past six, other people start coming to the station. The train is to leave at 7:04.

Dean and Castiel have somehow ended up snuggled together, and they're both sort of stif because they haven't moved in a while, but they can't be bothered to change their position.

Castiel enjoys this; having an armn draped around Dean, resting his head on the man's shoulder. It feels nice. Peaceful. Natural.

If he closes his eyes and blocks the noises around him, he can imagine that they're back at his apartment, or on a date somewhere. That they're together, and this is a regular occurrence.

"You know, we're both bordering on creepy," he notes, and cracks a smile.

"I'd be creepy only if we minded." A pause, then, uncertainly, " _Do_ you mind...?"

"Do you think I'd be  _cuddling_ you if I minded?"

"Touche. I'm just checking."

It's getting more crowded as time passes, and a few people throw glances at them, some more hostile than others. Castiel's unimpressed and uncaring about whatever they might think, until a man decides to accompany his glare with a disdainful, loudly whispered "fags" and Dean visibly stiffens.

"Albeit observant, that was sort of rude," Castiel comments neutrally.

The man appears rather insignificant and pathetic- he'd pay him absolutely no mind, except he seems to have bothered Dean. Which is not okay. Not by a long shot.

"Yeah, well, screw him," Dean grunts, and shifts closer. "Can't sweat over him showing a stick up his prejudiced ass, can we?"

"Screw  _him_? I have standards," Castiel says, flatly.

Dean gives a dry chuckle. "And how's cuddling with a borderline creepy stranger who you met at a train station and coincidentally shared life stories and late-night breakfast with working for your standards?"

"Fairly well," he responds, smiling. "I mean, you're way out of my league, but it's supposedly a good thing to aim high."

"You're clearly delusional, but thank you."

"You're clearly wrong, but you're welcome."

* * *

Their tickets are not numbered, so they manage to get a compartment to themselves once they're in the train, something they're especially grateful for.

"We ought to get some rest," Dean decides, and while Castiel is still fiercely against the idea of sleep, he can no longer deny it's a neccesity. So they both set alarms in their phones and close their eyes.

Train seats are comfortable enough, but their sleep is still irregular. They don't exactly get the rest they aimed for, but it's okay, because the small periods of consciousness are spent bantering and kissing lazily, though they're not completely sure when the latter began.

It's nearing noon when they arrive, and for all their exhaustion and desire to go home already, they're hesitant to part.

"I'll call you soon," Castiel murmurs- they've exchanged numbers a while back. "Gabriel's coming to pick me up. How are you getting home?"

"I'm getting a cab. Do you want me to wait for you?"

"No. We're both a bit too...Walking Dead right now."

Dean snickers. "We're sleep deprived zombies, sprinked with candy and rainbows."

Needless to say, they're both extremely glad they missed their train.


End file.
